True Colors (redux)
by Skinnyblackgirl
Summary: Juice/OC. Confronted with the truth about Juice's identity, newly-married Kyra James wants a divorce. But is she willing to leave her husband stuck between a club that might not forgive him and a fed who will get him killed? A/U one-shot that follows SOA s3e4 Dorylus. NOT part of the main Juice & Kyra series.


_**A/N: If you've followed my work, you know I've repeatedly attempted a "Kyra deals with Juice's secret ethnicity" story. Since I've failed at a long-form version, here's a one-shot that covers two ideas I've always wanted to tackle: Juice's blackness and Kyra's first "trial by fire" confrontation with law enforcement.**_

_**This is a one-off story (not in the main Juice & Kyra series) incorporating events from SOA s4e3, Dorylus.**_

_**If you're new here, welcome! You don't *have* to be familiar with my previous work to follow along, but it'll make more sense to you if get caught up.**_

* * *

More than anything, Kyra James wishes it wasn't true.

She wishes her husband wasn't secretly black. She wishes he didn't join a club that wouldn't have a black member. She wishes the feds weren't leveraging his secret blackness to turn him into a snitch. She wishes he didn't dump all this shit on her less than a month after their wedding.

She wishes she could divorce him.

It would be easy, she thinks. She could call her lawyer, withdraw whatever she needed from her inheritance money, and be out of Charming in a month.

So why doesn't she?

Three days after Juice's confession, Kyra still doesn't know.

Neither of them says a word. She sees evidence of him showering and changing clothes when she gets off work and hears him retreat to the basement when he comes home at night. The folder from the feds, with the photo of Michael Howard Cole and Juice's birth certificate, is on the kitchen table where they left it after the fight. Kyra stares at it while drinking her morning coffee, finding Juice's smiling eyes in Michael's picture.

It was easy to put him out when they were just shacking up. Even in a blind rage, the solution was clear: he could crawl his lying ass back to his little dorm room in the clubhouse. But now… Where would he go? To SAMCRO? The cops? She could barely stand to look at him, but could she leave him to his fate after pledging "For better or worse; as long as we both shall live"?

She is on her way out the door when Lieutenant Roosevelt pulls up.

"Ms. James," he says. "I don't think we've been properly introduced...I'm sorry it's Mrs. Ortiz now, right?"

It had only been a month and she planned to hyphenate until- "Ms. James," she corrects. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I'd like to talk to you if you have a minute."

"About?"

"Your husband."

Kyra flexes her twitching fingertips. "I have a few minutes," she says.

He strides into her living room, perusing the photos on the mantle. He lingers on Juice and Kyra's wedding photo. "Black love," he says. "Nothing like it."

Kyra never hated cops. Growing up in Oakland, she was indifferent to them, but to have one in her home mocking her marriage after tossing a ticking time bomb in the middle of it..._Contain yourself, Kyra. _"You're looking for Juan?"

Roosevelt nods. "Yeah. I'm having a hard time reaching him. You seen him around?"

"You're asking if I've seen my husband? Yes, Lieutenant, I have. Every night."

"I see. So it's just me he's avoiding, then."

"You would have to ask him. I don't know what business you two have."

Realization flashes in the sheriff's eyes. He knows she's won't give him anything. It's a subtle change, but Kyra sees his shoulders square. "I wonder," he says, tapping his upper lip, "how a sista like you gets mixed up in all this? Beautiful black woman, educated, got a little money from what I understand? The world's your oyster and you're saddled to a club full of white trash who don't want anyone who looks like you."

She doesn't know if he sees her eye twitch. Or if her skin flushes from the rage simmering inside her. She hates Juice right now but if she could kill Roosevelt with a look...

She wonders what Gemma would do.

Oh, if the Queen Bee could hear her thoughts. "_You? Want __**my**_ _advice?"_ she'd ask with a shit-eating grin. But Kyra doesn't know anyone better equipped to handle the moment. If Gemma was stuck between loathing Clay and protecting him from an asshole cop playing with their lives, how would she react?

Gemma Teller is ride or die and Kyra can't promise she won't leave Juice.

But she'll be damned if she lets this self-righteous piece of shit break him.

"That's interesting coming from a cop." She points to Roosevelt's badge. "Tell me..._Brother_...how many of your brothers-in-arms give a fuck about people who look like you?" His face tightens into a snarl, but Kyra cuts him off before he can reply. "Unless there's something else I can do for you, Lieutenant, I've had enough racial solidarity for the day; I have to get to work."

Roosevelt stops in the doorway. "I know you think you're protecting him, Kyra, but if you love Juice, you'll talk sense to him. Make sure he knows I'm lookin' for him."

_He's not "Juice" to you, dickhead._ "I'll make sure Juan gets the message."

When Roosevelt pulls out of her driveway, Kyra knows one thing for sure: they think Juice is weak. They know his fear of losing the club will cloud his judgment and make him vulnerable enough to snitch. _If Roosevelt's pressing him, they don't have what they want-yet._

It isn't too late to stop Juice from doing something stupid. Something that could get them both killed. Whatever SAMCRO is, she trusts they give a shit about Juice. The cops? They'll just use him and get him-and her-killed.

And fuck that.

For the first time in three days, Kyra texts her husband: "We need to talk. ASAP."


End file.
